


A Restraint In The Storm

by hirusen



Series: The Many Versions Of The Trouble Detective Virgil Sanders Gets Into [2]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Book One Spoilers, Canon Dialogue, Canon Universe, Detective Has Insomnia, Gen, Language, M/M, POV First Person, POV Original Character, Slow Burn, Spoilers, The Wayhaven Chronicles: Book One, Violence, canon plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 00:14:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hirusen/pseuds/hirusen
Summary: He had no idea his first day as Detective would ever lead to this.





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Mishka Jenkins has all the rights of the wonderful universe of the Wayhaven Chronicles, I'm merely borrowing the world and its characters, and putting my own detective between them.
> 
> That being said, this is the second of four (maybe five) stories that revolve around my detective, Virgil Sanders, and the multiple playthroughs I do for each romance option. Nearly all of the details and dialogue come straight from Book One of The Wayhaven Chronicles, so if you want to avoid spoilers, DO NOT READ THIS.
> 
> Each iteration of the story will be nearly identical, with only who I'm wanting to romance and certain actions/dialogue being changed.
> 
> ...Well, if you're still here, then I'll let you enjoy the story! ^^

I sigh, glancing over to the clock for the time. 11:14 pm.  _I should get some sleep._  After all, tomorrow is the official first day of my new job, and title. Stripping out of my jeans and shirt, I fall onto my bed, distantly hearing my downstairs's neighbor bickering with someone on the phone. I knew it was a lot earlier than I normally go to bed, having insomnia and all, but my case was thankfully a minor one.

Well, I say minor, but most nights sees me going to bed around midnight or one in the morning. Not the best time to be trying to get to sleep when you work as a member of the police force. Shaking the train of thought out of my head, I drag the sheets out from under me, making sure that they're tucked tightly against my body to fight off the last of the winter chill.

As I start to drift asleep, I feel a cold line drag down my spine, shivering at the phantom touch.  _...That's not good._  Somehow, I knew that my life of normality was about to end the moment I went to work tomorrow. I've always had a strange, calm air around me, according to other members of the force; I could almost always...sense when some major change in my life was about to happen, or if something really bad was going to happen and it was rare for me to be truly startled or shocked by something, not matter how horrible it was. My mum, however, never found that strange, saying that it was the family genes showing through.

...Maybe, after what happened to my father, I just stopped being so easily scared of a lot of things. Or maybe it was because I could accept the strangest things quicker than others? I again shake my head, tossing aside such thoughts. I needed to get some rest because I knew that one fact was going to be for certain from tomorrow onward...

My life, was about to get a lot more hectic.


	2. Chapter 1

_**The Next Morning in Wayhaven** _

The crime scene is a wriggling mass of spectators by the time I arrive, even this early in the morning. People line the small alleyway, packed so tightly I can't believe they're able to breathe, let alone fight for space to see the end of the street.

Revving the engine of my battered, silver hatchback does little to gain anyone's attention, and I realize I can't park unless they move. Not wanting to be late to my very first case as Wayhaven's newly-appointed detective, I let out a heavy sigh, pulling a little further to one side of the alleyway. The crowd continues to buzz in front of the car, some only shifting slightly aside.

Managing to park, I crank on the handbrake, trying to ignore the pained, crunching sound the car makes.

Out of habit, I glance into the rear-view mirror, quickly checking my appearance. I brush a hand over my dark brown hair. Figuring there is little else I can do to procrastinate, I finally force myself out of the car.

The chill air bites at my skin as soon as I step out of the warm comfort of the car. I shove my hands into the pockets of my coat, shivering at the relief it provides from the sharp cold. Buds may be clinging to the few stark trees lining the alleyway, but is it far from spring yet.

It looks as though most of Wayhaven has gathered at the scene, which is more likely true than not, considering the whole town consists of less than a thousand people.

As I step up to the blue-and-white striped barrier, I'm greeted by Officer Len, a part-time volunteer on the scant Wayhaven police force. I wonder for a moment if his hunched posture is from the grisly nature of the crime or just his advancing age.

He looks up from his pad, and I can almost hear the creaking in his bones at the motion. I wait as he speaks to greet me, his voice croaking out from his thin lips, partly hidden by a scraggly grey beard that matches the color of his skin.

Finally, he says, "Credentials please, sir."

I let out a long sigh. "Are we really going to do this, Len? You started working as a volunteer long after I joined the force."

"Sorry, but it's mayor's orders," He replies.

I'm hesitant to open my coat after just managing to get warm, but I pull one side open to yank out my badge and ID. I hand it over, Len not even glancing as it before handing it back. His eyesight may be bad, but even he cannot fail to recognize me.

"All good, Detective; step on through."

I take back my ID and dip under the barrier Len is struggling to keep raised. As I move away from his, I glance down at my new ID.

'Detective'. It's the first time I've been addressed that way by one of my colleagues.

It's strange to hear my new title. It belonged to old Detective Reele for so long that I'm not sure if it fits me quite yet. After all, the only training I've had was the rushed speech I received from the mayor, addressing my 'many merits' and how to show my 'willingness' to take over. The total of my detective experience probably amounts to that hour he spent lecturing me.

The promotion was rushed through in time for Reele's retirement party, leaving me spinning on how to react to the whole thing.  _I didn't even want the promotion; the captain threw it on me._

It was a surprise when the captain offered me the promotion, though it was less 'offered' and more 'forced'.

The captain was thrilled enough, needing someone in the station of a senior position so he could go off and play golf with the mayor whenever he wants. I let out a heavy sigh and shake my head at the thought.

My photo stares back at me from the ID pouch. I glance over my details, my name listed boldly at the top.

**Virgil Sanders**  
**Detective**  
**Wayhaven Police**  
**Male**  
**5' 5"  
** **Brown hair/Grey eyes**

"Finally here then, Detective Sanders."

I glance up at the sound of the familiar voice, a smile already on my face. Officer Tina Poname strides towards me, my old partner grinning at me as she nears. "Not much of a surprise they're all gathered here," She says, gesturing to the crowd behind us.

I look over my shoulder at the bustle of people, sunlight glinting off the phones held ready to take whatever pictures they can. "This is probably the biggest thing that's happened for years," I reply with a shrug.

She nods in response, brushing back a few brown curls that bob in front of her hazel eyes. "I can't help but notice none of the fancy-dancy silver spoons have bothered to show up."

Her nose wrinkles as she speaks, the freckles splattered over her rosy cheeks becoming more pronounced when the expression. "Don't suppose they care what happens to us normal folk, as long as no one touches their mansions. But anyway, how's the first day of your promotion going?"

"I kind of wish my career didn't start with a death," I admit, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets.

She purses her lips and sighs. "Yeah. Not that you should take it as an omen or anything." With a strained laugh, she dares a glance down the street at the crime scene, though it's half hidden by white-clad crime scene technicians.

The techs all busy themselves placing down yellow tags and measuring out every inch of space. There's a occasional bright flash as they take photos.

"Excuse me!" A voice stops us before we more. "I need to know what is going on. I demand to know!" Tina's grip on her belt tightens and I let out a drawn breath.  _Here we go..._

"I'm the landlord of these apartments." The man, an older gentleman in a crisp, grey suit, sweeps an arm upwards at the soaring, crumbling building besides us.

"I'm sorry, sir," I reply, my tone as light and polite as I can make it. "But we can't give out details at this time."

Tina places a hand on my shoulder. "You go on ahead; I'll deal with him. It's not your job to settle this lot anymore, Detective."

I throw her a grateful nod as she moves towards the landlord with a stern frown. Her tall, statuesque figure is hidden behind the stiff, unshapely, dark blue uniform; her pretty features contrast against the heavy belt and booths she wears.

If I'd known her before becoming such good friends as partners, I wouldn't have made a move--I'm only attracted to men. I think back to the patrol that really brought us together; we were just getting to know each other a little better and I felt comfortable enough around her to confess to her that I was attracted to men. After a moment, a tense silence between us, she laughed and asked me what type of guys I tended to drool over. In short, we spent most of that patrol gossiping about boys.

I shake away the thought, turning to head towards the crime scene. It's not far before I stumble to a stop, holding up my hands to keep balance as a technician walks in front of my path. The woman clicks her tongue at me before continuing to bend down and retrieve a piece of trash, carefully storing it in a clear plastic bag and sealing the top.

I move forwards once more, my path like a dance as I make my way through a maze of yellow tags and disgruntled technicians. I avoid coming up against the wall, which is slick with something I don't even want to think about.

Thankfully, I make it past the busiest part to find Doctor Turner crouched over the body. He looks up at me and frowns. "Sorry this has to be your first case, Virgil."

"Yeah..."

"It's pretty amazing to think I delivered you as a baby and now here you are, as a peer." His pride in me is dulled somewhat due to our meeting over a dead body. The gloomy light of the morning makes the grey peppering his short, black hair seem lighter, and his deep brown skin a little more aged than usual.

A quiet punctuates the air between us. Dr. Turner returns to looking over the still figure at his feet.

"Can they be covered yet?" I ask with a frown. "Give them a little peace."

"I think they're far from needing peace in this life," He replies. "We better check their identity. I couldn't roll them over until the city boys were done."

I note the glare he throws towards the crime scene techs. Wayhaven is too small and quiet a place for those types of people, so when a major crime happens they are sent down to aid from the big city. It's the first time this has happened in my lifetime, and the city techs and small town people obviously aren't mixing well.

Turner places his hands beneath the body before rolling it over. I wince a little at the dull thud that sounds as it topples over completely, a reaction noted by the keen, if ageing, doctor.

A woman lays spread before us, her cold, freckled skin marred by bruises.

I clench my jaw at the sight of her pale form, but I continue to stare in case it might reveal something.

"Not easy seeing your first body, is it?" Doctor Turner says quietly, his wrinkled face creased deeper in sympathy. "Well, anyway, I don't think she can be from Wayhaven. I see to pretty much everyone's health here, and I have never seen her before."

"I just can't believe there's been a murder. Here. In Wayhaven." My words come out in a confused mumble.

"I know what you mean. The last time there was violence in this town was back in my grandfather's day," He says, shaking his head. His thin-framed glasses wriggle down his nose; he pushes them back up and shrugs.

"Can you give me the time of death?" I ask.

"That's not my call to make," He replies, bristling slightly with his words. "That's your man's job back at the lab." He doesn't bother to hold back the disdain in his voice, obviously not pleased at having to give that responsibility to another 'city boy'. "I'm only here to make sure the body is really dead."

"Make sure 'she' is dead," I correct him.

He frowns in confusion. "Pardon?"

"She was a person, not just a body."

Turner nods and gives a warm smiled of apology. "Of course; you're right." He turns to face the techs behind him, their mask-covered faces giving them an eerie look. "You can take her away now." He then strides away down the street to where his black sports car is parked. "Good luck with it all, Virgil," He calls back with a slight wave of his hand.

"Find out anything useful from the doc?" Tina asks as she moves back to my side. We both watch for a moment as the techs move forward to throw a white cloth over the victim.

"We'll know more when Verda takes a look at her," I reply. "Are you okay getting statements from the witnesses?"

"Sure," She replies. "I've already started on it."

I give a nod of appreciation. "Take Douglas from the station if you need help."

"I'd have better luck getting help from a parrot than from that boy," She scoffs. She moves away, her pad flipped open in preparation.

With the crowds, the technicians, and the sheer amount of rubbish still littering the alleyway, I'm not sure how much more I can get from the crime scene. I begin to head out of the street and back towards my car.

"Officer Sanders--I mean, Detective!"

My shoulders instantly hunch at the voice, and I roll my head from side to side to release the sudden tension before turning to face the source of the call.

"Bobby Marks," I say. "Why am I not surprised to find you here?"

Bobby, being the only journalist in the small town, leaps on any kind of gossip he can--whether it be true or not. This is probably the closest to real news he's ever had.

Bobby also happens to have a reputation as a giant pain in the ass. Still, as far as my relationship with him goes...

He also happens to be my ex. I thank myself daily for getting out when I did. The man would do anything he can to get ahead, including stealing all of my essays in collage and using them as his own--while we were dating!

As if the bribes to find out extra information from some of our volunteers aren't enough, Bobby also likes to wiggle his way into people's personal lives and report in to everyone in town.

I won't give him the pleasure of even thinking about him anymore. He's out of my mind and memories. Even if it still niggles a little sometimes.

He grins at me as he approaches, his phone held out like a microphone. "What's happened here? Can you tell me--"

"No, I can't," I reply curtly, pushing the phone back as he thrusts it closer.

"Nothing at all?"

"No, nothing at all," I repeat, dipping beneath the barrier and heading for the sanctuary of my car.

"Not even for an old friend?"

I shudder at the way he says 'old friend', once again reminded of my error in judgement in collage when we dated.

"No, definitely not," I answer. He steps closer anyway, in obvious hope he's gotten under my skin enough to make me crack.

"Come on now, Virgil," Bobby coos. "I'm sure there's something you can tell someone you know as well as me."

"Goodbye, Bobby," I say with finality, marching the last few paces to my car. I yank open the door and sink into the silent solace of the front seat. Bobby continues to shout muffled pleas through the window, so I turn on the radio and strap on my seatbelt. I rev the engine, loud enough to be sure no one doubts my resolve to run them over if they don't move.

The sea of spectators quickly parts as I reverse out of the alley.

It'll be a while before Soloman Verda, Wayhaven's only pathologist, has anything to report, so I decide to take a quick brunch. I drive the car around to the swanky, modern side of town.

The redbrick factories that make up every foundation and building in Wayhaven have all been given a coat of fresh white or classy grey paint in this area. Tidy shop fronts lines the streets, each with a scripted, scrolling shop name running across the top of the door.

The Square is the centre of this modern hub, and I pull up to park beside the bakery. Getting out, I try to not break my ankle on the aesthetically pleasing, but treacherous, cobblestone street.

Thankfully, the wet, slushy blanket of leaves that covers the roads of Wayhaven have long ago been cleared away from the Square. I doubt the leaves even had a chance to touch the ground before someone was plucking them up and throwing them out.

The bakery is surprisingly empty. I stumble to a stop inside the doorway as a waft of hot air, lined with the scent of fresh bread, embraces me.

"Good morning, Virgil." Haley, the bakery owner, greets me with a grin, her ivory cheeks flushed red and a ring of white-blonde hair just visible beneath a red-and-white chequered chef's hat. "What can I get you?"

I stare at the curved display and the pastry goodies spread behind it, the fresh warmth of them steaming the glass.

"I'll have a coffee, please." My gaze flickers to the pastries, their scent enticing me closer. "And one of those."

She gives a smile and turns to the counter behind her, the bitter smell of coffee beans mixing with the pastries, making my stomach rumble. After a moment, she turns back and places down the paper cup and bag on the counter. "On the house."

"Are you sure?"

She nods. "I heard you're gonna need it--what with that murder and all." She grimaces and wipes her hands on her apron.

"Yeah, guess word gets around quick."

"That shouldn't surprise you," She says, chuckling. "It's worse than when we were in school."

I nod in agreement. There's a saying in Wayhaven that if you don't know what's going on, you just have to ask the person next to you.

Insular is an understatement.

"At least I know it's you out there protecting us," She says with a genuine smile. I give a slow nod.

I joined the police force because I had a rather rebellious youth; after what happened with my father, I started to act out and get into all sorts of interesting trouble. That trouble came back to bite me when I was faced with the choice of going to prison...or joining the force in order to 'temper my attitude.'

I chose the police, and it's worked out pretty well, surprisingly. The worst crimes I've had to deal with are vandalism and graffiti. Well, there was that time Mila Evans knocked her tennis ball through Jack Marshall's window, but that was all an accident.

It's probably better that someone like me is solving this murder, and not someone with a weaker stomach.

I grab up my goods, coming out of my thoughts. "Thanks for this." With a grateful nod, I leave the shop and attempt to traverse my way over the cobblestone once again.

I'm just about to sip my drink when my phone buzzes, Verda's name highlighted on the screen. With a sigh, I put down my things, start the engine, and make my way over a couple of blocks to the station.

* * *

_**Back at the Station** _

"Morning, Douglas," I call as I push open the heavy glass door, pleased to be back in the familiar setting of the station. It was once a factory, but the insides have been completely refurbished into a bright, modern work area. The walls are mostly made of large windows, and the work stations are efficient but open.

The young officer, seated behind the grey, faux-marble front desk of the station, scrambles to shove his cell phone into his pocket. Instead, he only manages to drop it on the floor. We both stare at the item as it spins on its back before slowing to a stop.

Douglas shifts his wide-eyed gaze to me, both of us realizing work had been far from his mind while I'd been out. I thin my lips in thought, suddenly presented with how to deal with the mayor's son now that I'm in charge of the station.  _I need to be able to rely on my own people not to be distracted at work. I'll just hold onto the phone._

"Really?" I ask, putting on my best disappointed voice. The young man turns away with a pout. I bend down and retrieve the phone, slipping it into my jacket pocket. "I need to be able to know you have the station covered while I'm out, Douglas."

"I know," He says, like a child being chastised, which I realize he sort of is. "I'm sorry, Detective."

"I'll keep it safe until the end of the day."

He doesn't argue, only slumps back into his chair with a heavy sigh. His long bangs covering his puppy-dog expression, the light blond hair almost lost against his pale skin.

I shake my head and begin moving towards the pathologist's lab.

As I push open the doors to the staircase that lead down to the basement lab, I wonder if how I dealt with Douglas was the right move. The all-powerful Mayor Friedman doesn't like any insult to his name...so Douglas must be a real disappointment. Still, Douglas is kind enough, just young and not great at actually remembering to focus on his work.

I shake the thought away as the chill of the basement sinks into my skin. My gaze flashes over the 'no food or drink' sign nailed to the wall just a few feet from the lab, and I grip my drink.

Reluctantly, I throw the paper cup and its contents into the nearby bin, knowing the rules are there for a reason.

Now the chill really sets in, and I shiver as I finally reach the pathologist's lab.

I bump the heavy door open with one hip, pacing into the clean room behind. White-tiled walls shine all around. The shimmering silver machines dotted about the edges of the room are not every welcoming.

"I don't know how you work down here," I say, spying Verda sitting at his metal desk to one corner. The slender, short man isn't even wearing gloves, just a suit and a simple white medical coat.

He turns and give a grin, the expression making his dark brown eyes shimmer even in the dull, electric light. "This is the first time I've really had to work," He says, running a hand over his styled brunette hair that he always has highlighted, the color complimenting his light brown skin. "Mostly I just deal with the overflow of natural deaths Doctor Turner can't manage."

I arch a brow, my focus shifting to the steaming mug of coffee on his desk. "Hey, I threw my drink away!"

"That's 'cause you're someone who's better at following the rules than I am. Something you should be proud of. I picked up too many bad habits working in the city." He smiles, the expression bright and full of cheer.

I snap out of my thoughts, our attention back on the white sheet on the table. The woman's head and shoulders are the only things visible. "You haven't started the autopsy yet?"

He shakes his head. "No, but..." He purses his lips, a shadow of a goatee framing them. "I found something you might need." He spins around, lifting an evidence bag off the nearby counter.

Inside is a cell phone.

"They couldn't find this on her at the scene," I say, taking the bag and looking over it.

"It was in her boot."

We both stare down at the woman, her skin now a grey-white, her lips so pale they seem to have sunken back and disappeared.

"We really need to find out more about her identity," I say, letting out a saddened breath. "I need to be able to inform her family."

"Yeah, I don't envy that job," Verda replies, his shoulders sagging. "But I'm glad you care about that kind of thing. More than most detectives would want to do, back in the city stations."

I half-smile at him, appreciative of the compliment.

"There's not much I can tell you at the moment," Verda continues. "Though I did notice bruises around her wrists and ankles."

"She was tied down?" I ask, the thought making my chest tight.

"So it would seem..." His voice trails off in obvious sympathy for the poor woman.

My hand tightens around the cell phone, and I bring it up to turn it on though the evidence bag. The phone flashes to life and I give a sigh of relief to find it's not PIN-protected.

Flicking through the call log, there are the usual names: home, work, but then only a very few other numbers. The texts are pretty standard too, though--again--very few of them.

"She obviously didn't get out much," Verda says, as he glances over the phone too.

"It's strange to think there are actually some out there who don't want to get out and know others," I say with a shrug. I've always been a bit of a social bug myself.

Verda chuckles. "Everyone is different. To each their own, as they say. Though I have to say, it's not exactly an easy thing sometimes. You never know what kind of word she did. She may not have had the chance."

I smile. "That's true."

The conversation is halted as I go through the photos on her phone. A few catch my attention.

"Something wrong?" Verda asks.

"No, it's just..." I stare at the pictures closer. They're blurred as though taken in motion, but the stained walls and cracked metal beams are familiar. "I recognize where these pictures were taken, and they seem to be the last photos she took."

"You think she managed to capture where she was murdered?"

"Possibly," I reply, shutting off the phone and frowning. "Looks like it's from the old Farris Warehouse at the edge of town. Tina and I had quite a few patrols up there. It's falling to pieces, but the teenagers still insist on risking their necks by going in it."

"Ah, to be youthful once more," Verda says, to which I can't help but laugh. "Will you go over to the warehouse now?"

"I will, after I've done some paperwork," I reply, moving to the doorway and glancing back at him.

"Alone?"

"I've got my radio if I need backup, but I'm pretty sure Tina checked it out already the other day. I can't imagine some deranged murderer is still hanging about in there."

He frowns in concern. "Be careful, Detective."

"You worried about me, Verda?" I ask, throwing him a smirk.

"You're about the best person I've worked for," He replies with just as much of a smile. "I don't fancy having to get used to someone new."

My laughter echoes about the room as I make my way out, shaking my head and feeling much better than I have since finding out about the case.


	3. Chapter 2

**_That Evening_ **

After a century of neglect, I'm impressed to find the paint declaring 'Farris and Sons' still clinging to the brick of the large, rectangular warehouse in some kind of defiance towards time. The roof isn't putting up as much of a fight. The metal, corrugated tiles are peeling away; some, already fallen, lie discarded on the swathe of concrete spreading out from the building like a dull, grey moat.

The warehouse is hidden from view of the town by the forest and is far enough out on the edge that no one really pays it much attention. 'Out of sight, out of mind' is a motto that suit Wayhaven quite well in general.

There is still enough of a trail through the trees for me to drive my car up to the building, though I find my teeth clacking together more than once over the uneven dirt track. I'm thankful to pull up onto the concrete; the cracks are easier to deal with than the tree roots.

Cranking on the handbrake, I lean over my passenger seat, ignoring the piles of crumpled paperwork, until my hands find the slim handle of my flashlight. It's a weighty piece of equipment, but its light slices through the gloom easily as I step out of the car.

I glance over the shadowed scene of the abandoned warehouse, the moon beginning to rise behind it. The silence from the surrounding trees only makes the squeak of the metal doors echo louder. I can't help my mind running to who or what I might find inside, and whether it might be dangerous.

I can handle myself well in a fight, but I'd rather it not come to that. The whole uncertainty of the situation makes me anxious. My hand travels to the gun and pepper spray on my belt, though the gesture doesn't help to settle my nerves as much as I'd hoped.

I can't tell if it's the chill night air or worry that makes me suddenly shiver, but I do my best to brush the feeling away.

I press onwards into the warehouse, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible.

* * *

**_Inside The Warehouse_ **

Inside, I sweep my flashlight across the interior of the warehouse, the beam of light flashing through the murky darkness. It definitely seems empty, though I'm not sure if that is a relief, or more of a concern.

My shoes hit the dirt-caked floor, and I glance down. The tiles must have been rather beautiful at one point. Hints of yellow and red jut out between the dried mud, dust, and plants as my shoes scuff against them.

Graffiti lines most of the crumbling walls--all of it spray-painted with perfect spelling and grammar. God forbid one of the rebellious rich kids' parents find out they had spelled 'this place stinks' incorrectly. I roll my eyes at the mild language and tidy handwriting before wondering where to start.  _Better make sure no one is outside..._

Knowing it's probably better to check that no one is going to sneak up on me from outside, I head back through the doors to the concrete lot and trees. It is a little lighter out here with both the glow of moonlight and my flashlight, but I still keep my steps steady over the cracks and grass.

Starting a perimeter along the outside walls of the building, I keep my gaze flickering over anything strange or unusual. By the time I'm nearly back at the front of the warehouse, I realize there is no one but me around, and nothing out of place about the building's exterior.

I move back inside pushing open the squeaking metal door. My focus flashes up at a shadowy movement across my path.

I swallow hard, balling my free hand into a tense fist at my side before relaxing my fingers. With slow, steady footsteps I approach the figure, readying myself for whatever they might do.

But it seems if there had been anyone here, they aren't around any longer.

A sudden flurry of movement sounds from behind me, and my heart leaps into my throat.

I instantly raise my hands, hoping whoever it is will see I mean no harm. Then, steadily, I spin around.

A flock of pigeons flurry out of the rafters, and I realize the sound originated from them. I shake my head and let out a sharp breath, placing my hands back at my sides, my fingers shaking a little less now.

"Thank god no one was around to see that--ah!" I flinch again at the shrill ring of my phone from my pocket.

The ringing stings against my hearing, which had grown used to the heavy silence. I snap my phone out of my pocket and press it to my ear without looking at who's calling. "Detective Sanders," I say, my voice coming out in barely more than a whisper.

"You alright, Detective?" Verda asks from the other end.

I clear my throat at the sound of his voice, shaking myself from the burst of adrenaline beginning to drain from my body. "Yeah, just got a bit of a scare at the warehouse."

"Are you alright? Do you need me to send someone to you?"

"There you go again, Verda, being concerned for me," I say with a chuckle. I lean against the windowsill nearby, quickly changing my mind when the dust leaves a stain on my coat.

His laugh echoes from the phone. "Well, excuse me for being worried. You never know; it could be something worse than a murderer, like a ghost."

"A ghost, really?" I scoff.

"Or a werewolf. It is a full moon, after all."

I give a chuckle, glancing out through the dirt-stained window to the bright moon beyond. The moonlight highlights the tops of the skeletal trees that stretch out towards town. "As if anything that exciting would find its way to Wayhaven," I say in a heavy tone.

"Though speaking of strange things, I found something odd about our victim..." He lets his words trail off and I shift on the spot, waiting for him to continue.

"So odd it's shocked you into silence?" I ask.

"Almost," He replies, followed by a soft chuckle. "It's her blood." There's the sound of shuffling papers down the phone. "It's not hers."

I frown deeply, wondering if I heard him correctly. "What?"

"The blood in her body isn't hers. In fact, it's not even fully human."

"Animal blood?" I offer as a guess.

"I'm not sure," He says, followed by a heavy sigh. "It resembles human blood, but it's definitely not all hers. The best way I can think of to describe it so far is that a parasitic virus has mutated the blood cells in a major way."

As I continue to talk, I decide to start making my way out of the warehouse. The echo of my voice around the empty room is a bit distracting.

"And here I was, hoping for a nice, normal murder," I say, ending with a sigh.

"Are there ever any of those?" He says, chuckling. "I won't know anything more until I get the results of the tests, but I'll make sure to send them off to the hospital first thing tomorrow."

For all the modern appliances the station has, coincidentally donated by the mayor after his son decided to join the force, there isn't enough room for the big machines. Any testing has to be done at the local hospital.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah, see you then," He says.

I hit the end call button and shove the phone back in my pocket, grabbing the metal door into head outside--only for someone to come barreling into me from behind, sending my flying through the door.

I collide heavily with the concrete and let out a loud hiss as pain jolts through my chest and arms. My flashlight skids across the concrete, the beam blinding me as it comes to rest a few feet away, shining brightly in my eye.

Forcing myself onto my hands and knees, I glance up, my body stiffening to see a shadowed figure looming over me in the moonlight.

"Stay...stay where you are!" I call, while trying to scrabble back onto my feet. I wince as a strike of pain courses down my back, but I ignore it so I can stand straight in front of this person.

I can barely make them out in the darkness, but it would seem they are a man--a gangly one.

We stand opposite each other, neither making a sound. I'm unsure what to do next. My breath clouds into white plumes as it hits the cold air, and I ball my fists at my sides.

"I think you should come with me--" My words are cut short as, out of the darkness, another figure appears and slams into the side of the man I was just looking at.

The two of them crash to one side, rolling behind my car. There is a loud grunt, then the distinctive sound of concrete cracking under force.

I make to step forward, but my path is suddenly blocked by the appearance of three more people, hidden by the night's darkness. Heavily outnumbered and completely confused, I have no choice now but to reach for my weapon. I yank it from the holster and point it at the group of shadowed figures before me, the sounds of fighting still echoing from behind my car. None of the figures seem to pay me much attention, a fact I am thankful for. Instead, they are all focused on the fight continuing out of sight behind my car.

As I suck in a sharp breath, the sudden cold hits my lungs and shocks me from my momentary paralysis of confusion and anxiety. I take a wide step forward and call, "Everyone stop! I'm with the police!"

The heads of the three figures snap around to face me, and I flinch at the eerily quick motion.

"Who the hell is he?" One of them asks.

"A police officer, obviously," Another replies, no small amount of sarcasm in their tone.

The car besides us suddenly rocks slightly, the two people behind it finally surfacing. The taller of the two slams the other onto the bonnet of my car, and I frown as the metal buckles beneath the heavy impact.

"Alright, that's enough!" I yell, surprised at the commanding tone to my voice, considering the situation.

The figure holding the man down glances up at my words, but as soon as they do, their captive cracks his fist against their jaw. The captor stumbles back from the impact. I have to blink rapidly as the man flashes past me in a blur so fast it can't be real.

"Don't let him go!" The figure calls, rubbing their jaw from the hit.

The group tenses, obviously about to run after the speeding figure. But I move forwards and come to stand before them, my gun still raised. "Stay where you are!"

Amazingly, they do--all four of them--and it gives me a slight boost in confidence.

 _Four?_  I sudden realize just how outnumbered I am, and my breathing speeds up a little. I can barely see them through the dark, not even able to make out their genders or specific features.

My eyes flicker to my car where my radio is. The group of them now stand as a barrier between me and the vehicle. Backup is out of the question.

Still, I have my gun.

I tighten my fingers around the hilt of the weapon, finger hovering over the trigger.  _Please, don't make me use this again..._

There are times when it's been necessary to pull the trigger, but I really don't want to have to do it again. My grip falters slightly, but I try to keep my stance straight and unmoving.

One of the shadowed figures shuffles a step closer. "Look, whoever you are--"

"Don't come any closer," I warn.

"Or what?" Another asks from the darkness, the question coming out in a half-taunt. I swing my gun around to face the speaker, though I can barely make them out in the gloom.

I lick my dry lips, though my throat is so dry it doesn't help any. "I will shoot." My voice wavers slightly, but I try to hold my ground.

The gun suddenly feels like an iron weight in my hands, my fingers aching to keep it raised.

There is a heavy silence, broken only by my heavy breathing and the slight breeze that rattles through the surrounding trees.

"He's bluffing," One of them suddenly says. "I say knock him out and let's go."

There's a quick shift of movement from the corner of my eyes as one of them steps closer. I turn to them with a sharp breath...  _Sorry about this._

I drop my gun hand to my side, whipping my free hand back and grabbing the bottle of pepper spray I keep in my belt. There's a sharp 'shhcck' sound as a fine mist and spray arches out of the bottle.

The liquid splatters the figure and they stumble back, their hands raised in confused defense. My confidence lifts as they retreat a step.

"Urgh, what is that smell?" One of the others ask. "Wait...did he just pepper spray you?" There is a peal of laughter from the same person, and my eyes widen to hear amusement and not concern for their friend.

My focus is forced back to the one I sprayed, who is not doubled over in pain as expected, but instead is wiping the liquid from their face and flicking it from their fingers in a disgusted motion.

 _How...how can it have no effect?_ I've been sprayed with that stuff in police training and it hurts like a fucking bitch; how can they just wipe it away like it's water? I drop the bottle of spray and grip my gun once again.

"I'll use more force than that if I have to!" I yell, raising the gun again, my shoulders slightly tensed. "Now, come with me to the station. All of you."

"He sounds serious," The one who was laughing says, amusement still hanging on their words.

"Shut up," The sprayed one growls through the darkness.

Their conversation makes me swallow hard, and I try to plant my feet firmer on the ground to steady myself.

**Bang!**

A metallic bang makes me swing around, only to find it's the doors of the warehouse creaking in the breeze. I turn back to face the group...but they've vanished.

_How could they be gone? I didn't even hear footsteps!_

With a heavy sigh, I stumble towards my car and lean heavily against the side. Adrenaline courses through my body, but I know in the morning I am going to hurt like never before.

A dull ache throbbing at my side proves my point. My gaze turns down to the crumpled dents in the bonnet of my car, and I groan.  _I better check around the scene a bit first._

Even with my body beginning to ache, I know I should look around before leaving, as much as my bed is calling to me. I push myself up and limp back towards the area where the fight and the strangers were.

I bend down to retrieve my flashlight and pass the beam over the area. There is nothing of interest, and I am just about to give up and head home when the light catches something dark and glistening on the concrete. I shift over to it, crouching down to find it is blood.

 _Must be from the person that got hit on the jaw._ Moving back towards my car, I grab a small evidence kit and scoop up some of the blood on a cotton swab, figuring it can't hurt to test it out. I might get lucky and they might be in the system.

With a satisfied nod, I hobble back to my car, really beginning to feel the aftershock of my earlier fall. The car engine coughs to life as I stick the key in the ignition. I put it into gear the moment it starts, never having been so eager to get home.

* * *

I wince with each step I take upstairs towards my home, shoving the key into the lock so I can get inside. "Ow..." I mutter as I strip out of my clothes almost as soon as I close the door.  _I better take a shower._  The idea of hot, pounding water on my body already starts to ease a little of the throbbing aches that have littered my battered frame.

I head to the bathroom and turn on the water, letting it heat up. I glance over myself in the mirror, already seeing a couple of bruises forming on my lightly tanned skin. Double checking the temperature of the water, I shift it so it now came out of the showerhead and moan at just how good the hot water feels against my battered and cold body.

My thoughts slowly move from the blissful shower I was taking to the group of strangers I encountered.  _Who on earth were they?_  It was clear to me that they weren't from the area, I might have recognized them if they were. Though, that wasn't what bothered me the most; that trophy goes to how they just up and disappeared. No human should have been able to do that, but...were they really human?  _Of course they are, Virgil. They have to be!_  Though... I think back to the conversation I had with Verda moments before all of that chaos and I have to wonder if maybe something like a werewolf or vampire did manage to find its way to Wayhaven.

I shake my head, the water being flung around the stall.  _There's no way they were vampires...right?_


	4. Chapter 3

**_The Next Morning, Back in Wayhaven_ **

It's difficult to decide between 'weirdos' or 'creepy shadow people' as I'm typing up my report the next morning. At least I didn't fire my gun. That would have added a whole hour's worth of paperwork to fill in on top of what I already have.

_I can't shrink my responsibilities though..._ Paperwork is tedious, there's no getting around that, but I can't just ignore it. It needs to be done or we'll have no record of the encounter, which could come back to bite me later. I glance up for a moment, staring out of my office's glass partition to the station beyond, before settling down further into my chair and getting to work. That is, until footsteps sound from the doorway.

I look up to see Douglas fidgeting uneasily. "Is there something you need, Douglas?" I ask, watching as he shifts from foot to foot.

"It's just..." He clears his throat, flicking his head to the side so his bangs reveal his eyes a little more: big, puppy dog eyes which I imagine often get him out of a loud of trouble. "You took my phone yesterday. I wondered if I could have it back now? I promise I won't do it again!"

_Oh crap. I'm a bad station parent._ I had completely forgotten. My gaze darts to my jacket hanging on the coat rack next to him, where his phone is still hidden in the inner pocket.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, kid," I say, pushing myself out of my seat and striding towards my jacket. "Yesterday was a bit...hectic. I didn't mean to forget it."

"It's alright, Detective." He offers a genuine smile, and I'm thankful for his understanding.

I grab the phone from the pocket of my coat and throw it towards him. "Here you go."

He fumbles to catch it, but manages in the end. "Thanks!" And with cheery gratitude, he heads back to his desk.

Suddenly, a welcome visitor peers around my doorway.

"You okay, Virgil?" Tina asks, worry in her words. She moves further into the room and shuts the door to my office.

I raise a brow at her concern. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Verda told me you went to the Farris Warehouse on a hunch. Did it pay off?" She glances over me. I'm sitting slightly hunched, my body still aching from the confrontation last night. The shower only managed to do so much. "And you're not exactly looking so good."

"Yeah, the victim had some blurred photos of the warehouse," I reply. "So I went to check it out. It ended up being a popular place last night, apparently."

She balances herself on the edge of my desk beside me. "Who were they? Did you find anything?"

"Well, I managed to collect this off of one of the strangers," I say, pulling the blood sample I collected from the top drawer of my desk.

Her brows arch in surprise. "How did you manage to get that? I can't believe they were willing to just let you take it."

I purse my lips for a moment. "It wasn't willingly, no. One of them took a pretty bad hit in their altercation."

"They probably deserved it."

I place the sample down beside her. "Can you take the sample down to Verda for me?"

"Sure thing; I've got to get going on my patrol soon anyway." Her smile turns mischievous. "I'm pretty sure my route goes past Haley's Bakery." She leaves with a spring in her step.

I try to get back to work, my stomach grumbling at the mention of pastries.

* * *

**_Later That Day_ **

The rest of the morning passes slowly. The patrol finds nothing unusual, and our reliable scouts around town (the elderly who just love to curtain-watch whenever they get the chance) also haven't seen anything stranger, nor any new visitors to Wayhaven.

I slap down the phone I had been speaking to Tina on and run my hands over my face. Picking up the coffee I made myself a few minutes before, not having a chance all morning, I gulp back a mouthful. Then I almost spit it back out over my desk, gagging on the cold slop which fills my mouth. It takes all my strength to swallow it down, my face pinching together to force it past my tongue.

"What is this?" I yell, holding up the offending drink towards Douglas through the glass partition.

He spins on his chair to face me through the window, glances at the drink, then shrugs. "The kettle's broken."

"And no one thought to tell me?"

He purses his lips. "I just did."

I try to grumble through my anger and push myself out of my chair to head to the small kitchen area. The red light on the kettle blinks at me like a heartbeat--a weak one. I lean down towards it, peering at the white plastic shell of the machine.  _Poor thing, let me fix you up_ _._

After unplugging the machine, I pull off the bottom of the casing and have a look inside. It's pretty obvious what the problem is as soon as I examine it, so I set to work.

A few minutes later the kettle whirs to life, the red light flashing happily away. I stand back, placing my hands on my hips and giving a pleased nod.

"You always did have a knack for technology." The new voice makes me whirl around, and my brows arch in surprise to see the woman standing before me.

"Mum!"

She smiles at me, placing a gentle hand on my arm in greeting.

It's more than a bit of a shock to find her standing before me. She's usually away, due to her work--a fact that hadn't changed even when I was a child. I quickly wrap my arms around her; being as close to her as I am, I'm not surprised as a little smile cracks her lips.

"It's so good to see you," I say with a bright smile, both of us leaning into the welcoming embrace.

She pulls back, running her hand over my cheek. "I'm sorry it hasn't been sooner."

"It's alright," I reply, leading her towards my office. "We've both been pretty busy."

As we head inside, she glances over to the whiteboard I had set to one side, with notes and photos of the murder placed on it. "So I can see." She takes a seat on the other side of the desk, and I move to sit in my own chair.

"Why are you here?" I finally ask, leaning back in my chair a little to examine her. She hasn't changed much.

She's always had a mature, commanding presence. She looks younger than she is, though I do notice a few new wrinkles on her forehead, accentuated by the uncertain frown she now pulls. She looks out of place against the clutter of my office in her pristine grey suit, bright white shirt, and stiff, formal posture. "The title of Agent Rebecca Sanders growing a bit dull?" I say.

She shakes her head, folding her elegant hands into her lap. "No, work is going fine."

A vague response, but that's not unusual. Every time I've attempted to find out more about her job, I'm always met with the same mysterious replies before the conversation quickly changes. The most I know is that she works for some shadowy government agency.

She tells me, "In fact, that's partly why I'm here."

"Oh?"

"The case you're working on..." Her gaze shifts over to the whiteboard once again. "It's bigger than you think."

"The whole thing did seem to be beyond an accident," I reply, leaning forwards slightly and bringing my fingers to my lips in thought. "Or even a first-time murder."

"A keen observation," She replies with pride in her tone. It quickly leaves as her professional expression returns. "The..." She clears her throat, her brows knotting in a slight frown, as though stumbling for a word. "The man you're looking for has killed before, in many places."

I swallow hard and try not to show my disturbance at this news. "And now he's picked Wayhaven as his killing ground?"

"We've been tracking him for months." She stands from her chair and begins pacing. "But I don't believe he will be leaving Wayhaven for some time, so now is our last chance to catch him."

"Why won't he be leaving?" I slump back in my chair, a little disheartened by all of this information. She twists around to face me, her lips set into a tight line. I sigh in sudden understanding. "It's classified."

She nods. "I'm afraid so. But there is something I can offer you." I perk up at this. It must be serious if I'm being offered resources by whomever she works for. "It's something the mayor is keen for you to utilize." My excitement deflates a little.

I swallow down my annoyance of the mayor's lack of faith in my ability and attempt a smile. "Well, any help you can give is appreciated."

"I'm glad to hear it; you won't regret it. Trust me." She is obviously pleased, but my smile falters a little.

Rebecca closes the gap to my desk, placing a hand on mine. "I know you can solve this. Otherwise, the Agency wouldn't have allowed me to let you lead such a big case. They'd be asking me to take over instead."

I smile up at her, grateful for the encouraging words, even if I'm not sure I wholly believe them. She pats my hand and moves away, letting out a small sigh.

"So, what is it you're offering?" I ask.

"My unit."

I arch a brow. "Pardon?"

"My unit, the team of agents I command." She gives a half-smile at my obvious surprise.

"I didn't even know you had a team. I thought you ran some department--"

"I do," She quickly interrupts. Once again, she stops the conversation about her work before it even begins.

I watch as she moves to the doorway, gesturing towards the front doors of the station. I try to peer around her to see who she is calling, but I can't see anything until four men march into the room after my mother.

It's hard to keep my jaw from dropping; the group of them look as though they strode straight off the catwalk into my office. I eventually stumble onto my feet and move around my desk.

With six of us now crammed into my office, it's beginning to feel a little crowded. However, when I meet the eye of one of the group and he offers a smile, I relax a little.

"Detective Virgil Sanders, I'd like you to meet my team: Unit Bravo."

None of them says anything in response, and silence begins to descend on the room like an uncomfortable blanket.

"Welcome to Wayhaven," I say, my voice as bright as my smile. "I'm sure you'll settle in just fine here."

Most of them give disbelieving frowns, but the one that offered the smile just moments before steps forward and holds out a hand. "Thank you, Detective Sanders," He replies. "If everyone is as welcoming as you, I'm sure we'll be most happy here." There is a grunt of protest from one of the people behind him, but he ignores it.

Eventually I take his hand and give a firm shake. "And you are?"

"My name is Nathaniel Sewell, but I prefer Nate." There's no distinguishable accent. None at all. Once again he gives a bright, warm smile, making his dark brown eyes sparkle.

He's tall, incredibly so, having had to duck through the doorway to enter. At least six foot four, at a guess. He withdraws his hand, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans.

The earthy tones he wears complement his tawny-colored skin. His dark brown hair is styled up, as casual as his whole being seems to portray, from the leather jacket, open shirt, t-shirt, and jeans, to the way he leans back on his heels slightly as he stands.

His lips are still curled into a smile when my gaze has finished passing over him, as though he knew I was inspecting him and was happy to allow it.

Nate steps back into the line-up of his group, standing beside a man a few inches shorter than he is. The man stares at me for a short moment, his posture stiff, and his expression stern.

Thankfully, one of the others approaches me before I have to deal with that rather imposing stranger. "I'm Felix," The approaching man says, a more American accent to his tone. "Felix Hauville."

He's quite obviously the youngest of the group. He's dressed in skinny jeans, a long t-shirt half-covered by a heavy cotton scarf, a waistcoat, and a loose-fitting hat that covers his short, black, coiled hair.

His rich, dark brown skin almost seems to gleam gold in the sunlight, his strong features and jawline contrasting with the soft smile he throws me. I reach out to take his hand.

He shakes it for a moment before clasping it tighter and sauntering a step closer. He's much shorter than Nate, five foot seven at most, but his entire being is rather overwhelming as he stands so close.

"A true delight to meet you, Detective," He coos, bringing my fingers up to his shapely lips.

"A delight to meet you too," I reply, his deep amber-colored eyes meeting mine before he presses his lips against my fingers. I can't help the light thrill which travels through me at the contact. I've certainly never had such a warm greeting before!

"Felix!" My mother's sharp tone cut through the room.

He lets my hand drop. "I think I'm going to like you, Detective," He says, winking at me before he steps away. I notice Nate shake his head in an exasperated manner at Felix, but the man only gives a bright grin in return.

I shake away the previous introduction, turning to the dark-haired stranger on my right. I am still attempting not to look at the stern man standing beside Nate, who continues to examine me with a narrowed gaze.

"And you are?" I ask, holding out a hand in greeting once again.

"Finding all of this unnecessary," He replies curtly, a gentle, lilting accent to his statement I can't quite recognize.

"That's a rather long name, don't you think?" I say, half-smiling to lighten his mood. "Do you have a shorter one?"

"Ha!" Felix bursts out laughing, nudging the man in front of me, who stumbles slightly. "Not so clever now, are you, Mason?"

"He is Specialist Agent Mason," My mother confirms.

The man introduced as Mason sneers at his companion. He stands slightly hunched over, though he still has to be about six feet. Waves of layered dark brown hair hang around his long face; his straight nose and narrow eyes give him a rather wolfish appearance.

The shadow of heavy stubble accentuates his sharp jawline, and his deep tan skin his painted with light freckles. The freckles cover his nose and cheeks, continuing down his neck until they are hidden by a long-sleeved, tight-fitting t-shirt and heavy black jeans. Cords of leather sit around his neck and are tied around his wrists.

A crystal dangles on one of the cords, but I barely get a chance to see it before he notices where my gaze has fallen and slips it inside his shirt.

I fold my arms across my chest. "Charmed."

"You shouldn't be," He replies, his voice monotone. Now he's just trying to bait me, a dangerous glint flashing in his stormy grey eyes, shadowed by heavy brows. I glare at him, not wanting to act unprofessional, but seriously debating it.

"Save it, Mason," A voice commands, and I stiffen in eerie recognition.

I turn to the imposing, stern-looking man and frown in confusion. My mother steps forward, a proud smile on her face, yet I continue to stare, his voice still echoing in my mind.

_It was the same one from outside of the warehouse last night. I'm sure of it._

"Ah, Virgil, let me introduce you to the team leader: Commanding Agent Adam du Mortain." Our narrowed stares hold before my mother steps closer once more and leans over to whisper, "Is something wrong?"

I blink, coming out of my silence. "You know, you sound incredibly familiar." I fold my arms. "Much like someone I met last night, in fact."

He eyes me carefully. "That seems unlikely."

"Oh?"

"Yes." He raises a brow. "We only arrived in town this morning. With your mother."

I purse my lips but eventually glance at Rebecca, who gives a nod and agreement. "It's true; they arrived with me this morning."

"Oh." I raise a brow. She has no reason to lie, and it was pretty intense last night. But still, it's hard to keep the suspicion from my expression.

There's also the fact I did pepper spray whoever it was. Looking over the group, no one seems to be covered in red rashes or inflammation.  _I swear I've heard his voice though..._

Shaking my head, I try to push the thoughts to the back of my mind.

Then, for the last time, I offer out my hand in introduction. Adam stares down at it as though the gesture is completely foreign, but does eventually take it.

"I look forward to working with you," He says, every word spoken in a distinct British accent, and each one also sounding like a lie.

"Likewise," I reply, pulling my hand back and pressing it against my thigh to stop the aching in my fingers from his surprisingly firm grasp.

He turns his gaze quickly away, but I let mine linger for a moment.

He's the second tallest of the group, easily six foot one, with broad shoulders and an athletic build obvious beneath his grey t-shirt and dark combat trousers. His pale, creamy skin barely has a tan or flush to it at all, and his dark blonde hair is only just visible, cut so close to his head.

Everything about him screams soldier, including his stiff, upright posture and emotionless face. Still, I can't deny his Roman nose and square features make him remarkably handsome.

I flinch slightly as his icy green gaze flicks back to meet mine, and I'm forced to look away.

"Well, now that introductions have been made, I hope you'll all work together to find the murderer," My mother says, her gaze shifting pointedly over her team. "Unit Bravo were only assigned this case a couple of weeks ago themselves, so they'll be as fresh as you. But I'm proud of their accomplishments so far, and have no doubt they will aid you to their highest abilities."

Mason scoffs from where he's balanced himself against a side table in the furthest corner.

My mother ignores him, striding past the group towards me. "I'm giving you my team to help, so use them as best you can. They are experienced at this kind of work."

She pulls me into a quick goodbye hug, pressing a kiss on my cheek. It's a more affectionate and motherly goodbye than usual, but I return her hug. "Well, I'll see you soon, Virgil." My mother heads towards the door, pulling her long jacket about herself tighter. "Adam, don't forget the reason your team is here." I frown at the look she throws the leader of the group, a silent exchange passing between them before her heels click over the floor as she leaves.

_They don't have discipline issues do they? Or is there something else going on with this case?_

Shaking away the strange moment, I decide where to begin briefing Unit Bravo.

_Well, I should at least state the obvious so we have some common ground._

I stand behind my desk, pulling out the very thin file on the case. When I glance up, I find the group have already settled themselves about the room. There casualness together makes me feel very much like the newcomer, but I brush the feeling away and straighten myself.

"The crime seems have to been carried out by someone with experience," I begin. The only one who really seems to be paying attention is Nate. "Due to this being the first murder that has been committed in Wayhaven for years--"

"That you are aware of," Adam says suddenly from where he stands looking out of the window.

I glance over at him, raising a brow. "Excuse me?"

"Not all crimes are solved by the police," He repeats, not bothering to look at me as he speaks.  _What's the matter, buddy? Ego won't let you look at the lone, most likely right that you were at the warehouse last night, detective?_

Besides, I already knew what he said was true; crime was something I kinda grew up with before joining the force.

"Well, considering this is the first I am aware of, I will treat it as such." I turn my attention back to the file. "We did manage to find the victim's phone, which my colleague, Tina Poname, is currently working through. As for the murder itself--"

"We already know about the murder," Adam says, twisting himself around to face me fully.  _I figured that. But, you walking ego, creating common ground is the first step to working together._

I grit my teeth at the repeated interruptions. "Still, I would like to go through all the facts before continuing, so as we're all on the same page. As I said, this is my first murder case. I would like to be prepared."

He crosses his arms in response, his biceps stretching the sleeves of his t-shirt to the point I fear it will tear. "We can handle this. This isn't our first murder, Detective." My title drips from his tongue like he's appeasing a five-year-old. "There have already been multiple kills related to this target--"

"Please," I say, cutting into his sentence, "can't we just work together on this?" He arches a blonde brow at my question.

"Working together with huma--uh, new people, is not our leader's specialty," Felix says, a snigger of laughter accompanying his words.  _Yeah, I kinda guessed that..._  I manage to hide the confusion on my face when I realize Felix nearly said 'working together with humans'.  _...Interesting choice of words._

Adam stares at me, his eyes slightly narrowed, though apparently in inspection rather than anger. As I stare back at him, holding my ground, I feel an odd tension course through my limbs at our held gaze. At first I figure it's guilt from interrupting him.

When the tension disappears, I let out a long breath, not having the energy to deal with him right now. If my office is too small to contain his inflated ego, then he can leave.

"Can we just get on with the job now?" Mason asks, interrupting the silence. He fumbles in the pocket of his jeans before drawing out a gleaming silver lighter, then perching a long cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," I call, getting his attention before gesturing to the unmissable, bright white and red 'No Smoking' sign plastered to the wall right beside him.

He turns to look at the sign before staring back at me for a moment. He then proceeds to flick open the lighter.

A small flame sparks to life, searing the end of the cigarette and making it glow red. He inhales deeply, holding my gaze, before puffing out a long steam of grey smoke.  _Oh you ass._ I'm gonna have to remember to crack open the window later.

_This is the team my mother is so proud of?_ I scoff at the thought.  _She can keep them._

Adam's arms drop to his sides. "Mason's right. We should get on with the task at hand, rather than discussing details we already know."

"Actually," I begin, "I think it would be good to make sure we all know the same facts."

But my words aren't even heard as Adam begins barking out orders to his team members. His suggestions are to check out newcomers to town, search any unused locations around the borders, and interrogate--interrogate, not interview--anybody who may have seen what happened.

The group rise from their places like dogs eager to follow his command.

_Enough is enough!_

I step out from around my desk and plant my feet firmly on the floor. "You cannot just barrel in here and crash about town in the hopes of finding a deranged murderer hiding out there somewhere!" My voice is louder and more commanding than I expected, making even Douglas glance up from the front desk and tense.

The tall, broad-shouldered leader turns slowly to face me, seeming once again more curious than angered. "Following my lead is the only way we'll catch the killer."

I shake my head. "Working together, with me, is the only way we're going to catch him." I look over each of them in turn, trying to keep my expression static and my tone calm. "I know this town. You don't."

Adam's lips tighten only a fraction, but it's enough to let me know he's finally listening, even if just a little.

A heavy silence reigns over the office once again, and I'm thankful when Nate steps into the centre of the room, like some kind of referee during a boxing match. ...Well, ego match would be more appropriate at the moment.

"We're a large group," He says, resting a hand on Adam's shoulder as though bringing him out of silent thoughts. "Certainly large enough to split our resources." He looks at me, smiling and giving a nod of encouragement. "What do you suggest we do, Detective?"

The hostility in the team leader's posture settles, reminding me of a bird calming ruffled feathers, and he spins away from me. I let out a subtle, calming breath and lean back against my desk, thinking over my options. _...Verda should have something by now._

"I would suggest talking to our pathologist, Verda, to see if he's found anything further after the full autopsy," I say, sitting back on my desk.

"Then I will go with you," Nate offers. "And the rest can go with Adam to--"

Felix steps forward between us. "I think it was 'crash about town,'" He says, repeating my words from earlier and gaining a stern glare from Nate.

I run a hand over my hair. "That sounds like a good idea. We can all meet back here in a few hours?" Both Nate and I turn to look at Adam, who remains silent for a moment before giving a stiff nod. "A few hours then," He says. And that is that.

He strides out of my office, followed close behind by Mason and Felix, looking like some strange type of entourage.

"Well, that meeting probably could have gone better..." I mutter quietly. I jump in surprise when it seems Nate heard what I mumbled.

He chuckles softly, half-smiling at me. "It went better than most meetings Adam has." I return the smile, all the intensity of the moments before draining away with Nate's much calmer presence.

"I'm sorry about Adam," He continues. "We don't often work with others, and I don't think he's too worried about improving his social etiquette when we do."

I shrug. "Don't worry about it."

"I worry because I don't want your first impression of our team--your mother's team--to be based on Adam's poor social skills." He gives a cheerful laugh.

_I should thank him._ I've dealt with big egos before, but it's always good to have someone to play middle ground.

"Hey, thanks for diffusing the tense situation from before," I say, truly appreciative of his actions.

"It's something I have grown used to doing," He replies, seemingly half in joke and half in concealed annoyance.

I push myself off my desk and head towards the door. "Shall we go see Verda?"

"Where is he?" He asks, following.

"In the basement."

He pauses mid-stride. "The basement?"

"It's where our pathology lab is," I explain, pausing in the doorway. "Well, it's not much of a lab, to be honest, but Wayhaven's never had need of it before."

"And I hope it will never have need of it again after this," He replies, honesty lacing his every word.

As he reaches the doorway, I glance up at him, craning my neck all the way to meet his eyes. "You seem a lot different to the others in your team."

He gives a chuckle, a deep sound that reverberates from his chest and seems to vibrate through the air and land on my skin. "I'm more like them than I would care to admit." His voice wavers, and I frown as I'm sure I hear a tone of regret in his words.

* * *

**_Down in the Lab_ **

As always, the chill hits me as we walk towards the doors of the lab, Nate seems to feel it even more than I do, shivering and rubbing his hands over his arms to try and warm up a little.

I give a quick knock on the door before swinging it open and heading inside. We find Verda peering over the selection of papers spread over his desk, the victim hidden beneath the white sheet on the table behind him.

He glances up, his focus instantly shifting to Nate, who is quite obviously shortening his steps to keep in stride with me and not steam on ahead with his long legs.

"Verda, this is Nate," I introduce them. Verda rises from his seat to walk towards us.

Nate stretches out a hand in greeting, which Verda instantly takes. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Verda."

"Likewise," Verda replies, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth as he shoots me a knowing look. His raised brow is shouting, 'This man is very attractive!'

_Yeah, tell me something I don't know._ I pointedly ignore the look. "Nate and his team work for my mother. We're working together on the investigation; apparently our killer has been busy killing lots of people in other places too."

"Then, Agent, maybe you can help me," Verda says, reaching for the cloth covering the body.

"Nate is fine," He replies, his nose wrinkling as though the formality offends him.

Verda nods with a smile, then lifts the cloth from the side of the victim to reveal her arms. I shuffle a step back at the sight of the jagged, long wounds sliced down the forearms of the dead woman. "Have woulds like these been inflicted on the other victims?"

Nate's brow shifts into a sympathetic frown. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Is that how she died?" I ask.

Verda shakes his head. "No, she actually died of shock."

"Same cause of death as the other victims," Nate reveals.

I glance down at the victim with a frown. "So, how does someone die of shock?"

"There are many ways," Verda replies, dragging his stool closer. Nate and I wince at the noise as the metal legs of the stool screech over the tiled floor.

He takes a seat. "But if you want my opinion...it was due to an attempted blood transfusion."

"What?" Nate's voice is so sharp it makes me flinch. His shoulders tense almost around his ears, and his jaw tightens so much I worry his teeth will clip.  _Well, that's not a good sign. Why does that make him so worried?_

"A blood transfusion," Verda repeats, seemingly unaffected by Nate's sudden change in demeanor.

"You think that's where the strange blood came from?" I ask, remembering what Verda told me about the oddities within the victim's blood.

"Strange blood?" Nate asks, his tension only tightening.

I nod. "Verda found something strange about the victim's blood--mainly that it didn't seem to be all hers. Some kind of parasitic mutation, right?"

"It's a guess," Verda says with a shrug. "From what I could determine, it was as though the blood had been altered, confusing even the basic tests I did. It was hard to tell if it was human or animal. But the cells definitely seem human, just...changed."

I frown, asking the question which seems to hang in the air. "But why would they want to do that?"

"That's for you to answer, Detective. I can only give you the facts of what I find," Verda says, covering the woman's arms with the sheet again. "Unfortunately, all the facts are not at my disposal until the hospital gets back to me."  _Oh great..._

"When will that be?" Nate asks, his shoulders relaxing a little.

I glance at Verda. "A while."

Verda stands from his place and moves back to his desk. "The hospital doesn't exactly like the fact it has to help our department, so they can take a while. I heard they recently got a new blood technician, so I imagine things will take even longer."

Nate spreads his hands out. "Don't they want to help you catch the killer?"

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" I scoff in reply, shaking my head slightly.

"The speed with which we catch the killer benefits them. Surely they can see that?" Nate says, more to himself than anything. "And don't they want to help give her some peace?" His soft gaze flickers down to the dead woman.  _I understand where you're coming from, Nate, but that's just not how small town politics work..._

"I'll wait to hear from you," I say to Verda as I shift around to leave. Nate stares at the victim for a moment longer before ripping his focus away to follow me out.

"Oh, wait, Detective," Verda calls, making me pause and spin around. "I almost forgot." He shuffle to his desk, grabbing up a small wad of printer paper. "It's about the blood you collected at the warehouse."

Nate takes a wide step forward, the tension from earlier quickly returning and making his whole body stiff. "Blood?"

"Yeah," I reply. "I had a run in with some strangers up at a potential murder site. One of them was injured, so I managed to collect a blood sample."

I frown at Nate's reaction. The color drains from his face and he swallows hard. "Are you alright, Agent?"

He shakes his head and attempts a smile at me, but I can see it's masking his worry. "I'm fine. What about the blood, Doctor?"

Verda shakes his head but smiles. "Well, it's quite remarkable, but it seems to be similar--near on the same, in fact--to the strange blood in the victim."

My eyes widen. "What?"

"I don't know who this sample is from, Detective, but whoever they are should either be very ill or very dead." He frowns down at his papers. "...Or undead."

"Great," I say with a groan, rubbing a hand over my face. "Now I have zombies strolling about town."

Nate splutters, coughing, and I can't help but notice he seems to be trying to cover an amused smile with his hand. I brush off the odd reaction, too confused by all of this to think on it further.

"At least it's something to maybe follow up," Verda suggests.

I give a nod.

Any amusement in Nate drains quickly away. "Are you certain this is something you should be investigating further?" He asks. "I'm sure it's all just...coincidence."  _Coincidence? In my life? Yeah, no._

"It's better than no lead at all, which is what I had before," I reply.

Nate glances away. "Yes, of course, you're right."

I shake my head at his less-than-enthusiastic reply and turn back to Verda. "Thank you. Let me know when you get anything else."

"Will do," The doctor replies, moving back to his desk. Nate and I then finally take our leave, heading out of the lab and back up into the main station.

* * *

_**Back in the Office** _

Back in my office, Nate is kind enough to make us drinks while we wait for the rest of his team to return.

Finally, with the kettle fixed, I can have the caffeine my body needs. I gulp a mouthful of the hot liquid and sigh.

It's then I notice Nate is at a mug of milky tea. "Not a fan of coffee?" I ask.

He smiles, placing his cup on a coaster on my desk. "I like it; I just prefer tea."

With my attempt at small talk over, our conversation returns to the case. "Maybe it would be good to investigate the Farris Warehouse again," I say, voicing my thoughts aloud. I'm not exactly overly keen to return there after what happened before, but at least I could be more prepared this time.

Nate leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. "If you'd like, I can go with the rest of my team later?"

"Are you sure?" I ask, leaning forwards a little. "I don't want to pawn my responsibilities off onto you."

He shakes his head at my concern. "Please, don't fret over that. It will be a good opportunity to acquaint ourselves with the area." He pauses. "And also speak with my team about how to work with other."

I give a resigned sigh. "Alright." The niggles of anxiety that knotted my stomach settle somewhat. Might as well take advantage of having the extra people around for tasks like this.

"Are you certain you don't mind?" He asks, concern in his tone, his dark brown eyes settling on mine. "You did make your objection quite clear earlier about us going about town on our own."

"Yeah, it's fine." Working with a team wasn't exactly what I wanted for my first case, but seeing as we have to, hopefully he really will manage to talk some sense into his team. Then we can all get on with the case.

"At least you asked rather than demanded," I say. "I only objected to overbearing, egotistical--oh, Adam, hello!" My voice crack, and I almost spill my drink down my front in my haste to cut off my insult.

Nate looks over his shoulder to the doorway where the rest of the team are entering. "Any luck out and about?"

"It yielded little," Adam replies, and I shift in my seat as his gaze flickers my way.

"Well, the detective and I have been speaking, and he suggested we check out one of the warehouse on the edge of town." Nate stands from his chair, moving closer to the group. "He had an incident there with some possible suspects."

Adam's gaze shoots to Nate so fast I'm surprised he doesn't topple over. "And he agreed?"

I roll my eyes, sinking further in my chair and keeping my comments to myself, even more so when I see Felix grinning in the corner.  _Of course I agreed. I don't wanna play tour guide for someone who's ego is as big as your's._

"Come on," Nate says, his tone light. "We better get going before the sun sets." He glances back to me, giving an appreciative nod. "See you tomorrow, Detective. It was good working with you today." He offers a smile along with the nod.

I smile in return, leaning forwards in my chair a little. "It was good working with you too. See you tomorrow."

Adam gestures for the group to leave, all heading out of my office at the same time.

I watch them leave the station; the exact moment they do, Tina pops her head around my door. "What was that?" She asks, her eyes shimmering.

I shift a couple of papers on my desk. "Nothing."  _But a group of attractive men._

She shuffles into the room, her curls bouncing around her face as she comes to perch herself on the edge of my desk beside me. "Uh, I'm sorry, but four people who look like that in your office is not nothing."

"Okay, I get what you mean," I reply, glancing up at her in resignation. "It is going to be a bit distracting having them around..."  _Especially **one** of them... God why is he my type?_

"A bit?" She scoffs, sliding down into the chair beside my desk. "I don't think I'll get any work done if they're coming in every day."

I roll my eyes but give a smile. "Well, we'll just have to try our hardest."

"Easier said than done." She spreads her hands out wide in front of her. "I mean, did you see them?"

"Yes, I saw them," I reply with a chuckle. It was kinda hard NOT to notice them.

"At least that's a start I suppose," She says, pouting her lips. "When was the last time you even thought about spending some time on your love life?"

"I don't open up easily; you know that," I reply. While Tina was the first real friend I made on the force, it took about three months of us doing patrols together for me to finally open up more and let down my shields; I'm naturally very friendly with people, but it takes a long while before I feel comfortable enough around someone before I really let them see who I truly am.

Though, with how at ease Nate makes me feel, I have a thought that he might see that side of me a little sooner than the rest of Unit Bravo. ...Or at least  _long_ before Adam ever does.

"I know." She stands from her place, smiling so genuinely it makes her eyes crinkle. "But still, you're a detective now, Virgil. You've reached pretty high in your career. You're allowed to enjoy the rest of your life too, you know."

I purse my lips. Then I tap a few keys on the computer so that the monitor flashes to life, unsure how to respond to Tina.

"You're a strong, independent man," She continues, and I flicker my gaze over the top of my screen to meet hers. "You deserve a strong, independent person at your side." Another smile curves her lips. "And it wouldn't hurt if they were easy on the eyes right?"

Goddamn I love this woman. I finally crack out a grin. "Alright, I get your point! But this murder takes priority right now."

"Oh, that reminds me," She says, pausing on her way out. "I came in here to tell you I found out who the victim was."

A heaviness hits me like a brick to my chest. "Who was she?"

"Janet Greenland," Tine says, her brows shifting into sympathy. "Poor girl. She was an engineer. She was here looking for a place to rent, trying to get away from the crime of the big city. Kind of ironic, isn't it."

She turns and leaves, a sombre air having fallen over my office at the news. I turn my focus back to my computer, hoping I might be able to figure out what to do next.


	5. Chapter 4

**_The Next Morning, At the Station_ **

What should have been a lovely early spring morning is dampened by a grey sky flecked with dark storm clouds; a mist of rain hangs in the air. The sun seems to be trying its best, but its morning rays barely make it past the barrier of cloud.

I shake myself off as I step inside the station, the moisture sinking into my coat.  _At least I don't have to wear a uniform anymore..._ That itchy material soaked up rain like a sponge.

Wearing what I like is certainly a major perk of the job.

I usually like to wear something mostly subdued. A simple hoodie, t-shirt, and jeans are enough for me. My job isn't to stand out; it's to blend in.  _Though when it does warm up a bit, I know that's gonna change_.

I yank off my coat and head to my office, being the first one in as usual.

Or at least, so I thought. I pause in the doorway to find Unit Bravo already gathering inside, strewn about the room in the same positions they'd taken up the day before.  _I guess unassigned assigned seats are still a thing._

Nate smiles in greeting as I enter. "Good morning, Detective."

I shake off the damp from my coat before hanging it up. "The weather would suggest otherwise. Not exactly the glorious day the weatherman promised."

"I guess you're not much of a morning person, Detective?" Felix asks with a chuckle. "Don't worry; neither are we." Nate lets out a heavy sigh in the chair next to him.

Ignoring the banter, I move further into my office and take a seat. "Did you find anything at the warehouse?"

Nate shifts forward in his seat. "Well, we thought--"

"No," Adam's strong reply cuts through whatever Nate had been about to say. Nate's head whips around to face his leader, a frown creasing his dark brows together.

_There's clearly a power struggle going on here..._ I watch the odd, silent exchange pass between the pair. Uncertainty tugs at me; the question was not exactly hard to answer. My attention flickers to Felix, noticing the gleeful smile quivering at the corners of his lips as he watches his colleagues glare at each other.

Clearly, this isn't the first time this has happened between Adam and Nate.

I only return my focus to them when Nate turns away from Adam and sinks deeper into his seat. "As Adam said, we didn't find anything."  _I'm calling bullshit._

I flick my gaze between the pair and arch a brow. Well, that reply was just a big fat lie. They obviously found something, but why hide it? "I thought we were suppose to be working together?" I ask, my tone stern.

Nate's brow creases into a frown. "We are."

Folding my arms, I glance between them. "Then why are you lying about this?"

"We found nothing, Detective." Adam's reply is as stern as my question had been. I realize the conversation is over, as much as I want to pursue it.

_Maybe they think they can do it all without me?_ I glare over at the stiff-postured team leader.  _Or at least, Adam thinks he can do it without me._

I purse my lips at the thought, pushing it to the back of my mind. For now, I have to keep focused on the case...which will be more difficult if they're hiding things.

"Well, we still need to find the actual murder site. She definitely wasn't killed where she was found," I say. "Was it the same with the other murders he's committed?"

"Yes," Nate replies, this time not interrupted by his brooding leader. Adam is once more staring out the window.

I let out a long breath, looking down at my notepad; it is painfully empty of clues or notes. "Were any of the victims from the same location?"

A throaty, slightly condescending laugh erupts from Mason. "Their location meant nothing." Once again, his words are softened by an accent I can't place. Maybe hearing it more would help me narrow it down, but the idea of striking up a conversation with the man now glaring at me through a wall of smoke...

_Fuck, why is it always bad-boy types that I'm attracted to the most?_ As I hold his stare, a shiver passes over my skin. I swallow hard, hoping that it's not caused by excitement from the sudden way his eyes have dropped, half-lidded, as he examines me with a deliberately slow gaze.

_Oh, this is going to be a long case._

My focus is pulled back to the room as Nate speaks again.

"The previous victims came from all over," Nate explains.

"That's an understatement," Felix replies. "We're talking worldwide." He spreads his arms out in emphasis.  _All around the world he's killed? What's he looking for?_

I frown at the revelation. "Someone who goes to that extreme must have a reason. Nobody would travel that much just to kill random people."

"A good point, Detective," Nate comments before throwing a stare at Adam, who completely ignores it.

Felix suddenly gives a chuckle, seeming to be lost in thought. "At least it's meant we've gotten to go to some interesting places in search of him. Remember Alaska?"

He chortles. "Mason did not do well in the cold." The comment receives a grumble from Mason in the corner. "But there wasn't as many humans in Alaska, so that helped cheer him up a little."

"Not many humans?" I ask, cocking my head to one side at the strange word choice.  _I mean...it's true, but that's an odd way to put it. ...A REALLY odd way now that I think about it._

A heavy quiet descends over the room, broken only by Felix letting out a strained chuckle. "Oh, you know, not many people, heh..." He throws a sheepish look at Adam, whose features are furrowed into a tight know.  _A simple change in word choice has you tense, Adam? Why?_

A knock from the door makes us all look up to find Tina standing in the doorway. A worried frown lines her face, her shoulders hunched. My thoughts of the conversation are quickly pushed away by concern.  _That's never a good sign._

"Hey, Virgil, can I talk to you for a moment?" She asks, clutching the door to keep her balance.  _Really not good._

I give a nod. Something is obviously wrong.

Standing from my place, I glance back over the group before moving out of the office and shutting the door.

I follow Tina to the front desk, where she leans heavily against the counter and runs her fingers through her curled hair. We're alone, since Douglas usually doesn't arrive until, well, whenever he feels like it.

"Kate Hayes rang the station this morning, worried for Garret," Tina explains, biting her bottom lip.

"Her son?" I ask in surprise. Kate, being the only dentist in town, is usually run off her feet. To help her out, Garret has often spent his time after school at the station until she can collect him. Usually, it's Tina who keep him company--helping him with his homework or teaching him the ropes. From the little I have interacted with him, he seems sensible and nice enough.

"He didn't come home last night. What if something happened..?" Tina flicks her worried gaze up to meet mine, her voice choking in her throat. "With a psycho running around town--"

I shake my head at her train of thought. "Don't jump to those kinds of conclusions, Tina. You'll drive yourself mad."

She purses her lips, but then gives a reluctant nod. "Yeah..."

"We need to be sensible about this, not go off the deep end first thing, okay?"

She nods again, though she leans even heavier against the counter for support.

We both flinch as the phone on the desk give a shrill ring.

Tina lets out a sudden relieved breath at the sound. "Oh, it must be Kate. She said she's ring back as soon as Garret turned up." She reaches for the phone. I turn away, thankful the situation is resolved before it becomes something much worse.

Heading back to my office, I shake my head, staring at the ground.  _With what's happening, it's no wonder this town is on high alert over every small thing._

My thoughts come to an abrupt halt as someone comes storming out of the doorway of my office and crashes into me. We both stumble back, and it feels more like I collided with a brick wall than a person.

Regaining my balance, I glance over, finding Adam staring at me in genuine surprise.

He quickly straightens himself out. "I apologize. I wasn't paying attention."

"Wow," I blurt out, brushing down my hoodie from the impact. "We should put you in the armory as a battering ram." I give a light chuckle, though it seems to fall short against his unamused frown.

Silence soon falls once again. I shift slightly beneath the awkwardness of it.

Adam turns to avoid my gaze, his focus shifting to look over the station. I arch a brow when his nose wrinkles, as though smelling something unpleasant.

"You really don't want to be here, do you?" It's a moment before I realize I spoke the question aloud.

He's quick to reply. "We're here now, so it's more a question of dealing with it, rather than liking it."

_Ugh, what is this guy's deal?_ "No one's forcing you to stay, you know," I say, my tone sharp.

He smiles at me, an unexpected response to my statement, before replying. "I don't run away from my responsibilities. Interesting that it's your first thought on the matter thought."

_...Really?_ Is it really that odd to mention to someone who isn't exactly enjoying themselves that they don't have to stay?

I can't tell whether he's mocking me or joking with me, and I shift away from his continued half-smile. Which I admit looked very nice on his usually unhappy face.

The conversation is halted by a sudden clatter at the front desk. "Uh, Virgil?" Tina calls. I turn.

Her normally rosy skin has paled to a ghostly white, the phone gripped tightly in her hand. "There's been another murder."  _Oh, God, please don't let it be him..._


End file.
